I heart my HRM!

Want to know what sucks monkey’s butts? Getting your swish new heart rate monitor (that was extra cheapo on ebay) when you have injured ribs! I’m like, how high can I get my heart rate? Run, run…ouch, ouch, double ouch!

How the hell am I supposed to rest when I want to max out my heart rate?

Since I set my HRM, I’ve burnt 491 calories. Pity I’ve eaten about 1,000. Well maybe not that many. My resting heart rate is around 70-75 bpm – is that good? I feel like my heart rate is high atm cos I can only breathe real shallow. I am so wearing my HRM for the rest of forever.

Miracle Cure

I went to the doctor – my ribs aren’t broken any more. They are just severely bruised. Woohoo. She said it would take about 10 days for them to heal and since 5 of those days are nearly up, that’s no time at all. I’ll soon be running again!

Ping!

It’s weird when you know something in your head but don’t really understand it then suddenly out of nowhere – ping! The lightbulb moment when you realise what it really means.

Yesterday I got sick of lollygagging around being broken rib girl so decided to walk into Borders for some coffee and book reading fun. It’s about 4kms so I figured I could walk it then get a tram home.

I had my flat white and a vegetable frittata then ended up walking home because Sunday trams are impossibly not there – and my impatience always overrides my laziness and my common sense at not walking too much when I’m injured.

You know, it’s not the rib pain that stops you from exercising. It’s that you can only take shallow breathes. That really screws you up. But that wasn’t my big epithany.

I’d been reading through the Trinny and Suzanne books on how to dress and, walking home it hit me: I’m always going to have this body shape. See I’d been thinking I just needed to lose some more weight and I’d eventually have a nice flat belly – that the middle fat would get the hint. But that aint going to happen, is it. Sure it will get smaller and lesser but it’s not going away. I have this shape for life.

That’s why people dress for their shape. It’s not because I’m fat – it’s because that’s the type of body I have.

For some reason, I’d been thinking this was like an exam. You get to the ‘right’ weight and you pass, or you don’t and you fail. But there is no pass, no fail. There isn’t a ‘one size fits all’ goal at the end of the rainbow.

And that’s an amazingly liberating thought. We’re brainwashed into the thinking if we do everything right one day will be a collection of perfect body parts but it’s never going to happen. Ever. There is no finish line, no prize giving ceremony. There’s just me with my imperfect body and you with your imperfect body – and some of those imperfect parts are damn fine.

We’re more than the sum of our parts, more than just a ‘renovator’s delight’. Once you realise you can’t reach perfection, the pressure’s off. Today I’m best version of ME that I can possibly be and that’s better than being some ideal cookie cutter girl.

As a friend of mine used to say – be yourself, and let yourself shine. I’m starting to get that.

Blahs

Yesterday ended up being not good. I’ve been feeling really blah and then sat up all night watching Buffy with my sister and eating junk food. Bad, bad move. I wanted an Eskimo Pie so went to the shops to get one but they only have all the new fancy icecreams so I got other stuff to compensate – a mint chip cornetto and a bar of fruit and nut chocolate. I think it’s the first time in over a year I’ve bought a full sized chocolate bar, not just one of those snack sized ones. When I opened it, it was gross – I dunno how old it was cos the use by date was in some Asian language but it was all powdery and crumbled, just like those vampires after Buffy stakes them. I still managed to eat half of it because that was the kind of mood I was in.

Today I feel blah again but I’ve slept most of the day. I think I might go have a shower and get dressed then try going for a walk. That should help.

I hate the thought that it could be weeks until I run again. It seems all this year has been bad – what with colds and flus and bronchitis and now this. Oh but another good thing about broken ribs – I’m getting to be an expert at squats. I’m doing hundreds a day since it hurts to bend over.

PS.

To answer Lisa’s question, this is how I managed to break my ribs: as I fell, and I fell like a ton of bricks, I balled up my hand into a fist and it ended up in under my left boob! So I ended up not just falling but giving myself a really hard punch in the ribs at the same time. Don’t try this at home, kiddies.

I forgot to mention, there was this most lovely woman who came to my assistance when I fell. She gave me some antiseptic baby wipes for my wounds and was really concerned (she was walking her baby in the pram). She told me that she’d just been wish she had my motivation to get out and run… yep, that’s me, unmotivating people with my klutziness!

More Oops…

When I said I broke my ribs, I was joking! Well I thought I was joking. The doctor didn’t. Diagnose: broken ribs. Ouch. I really am tough like Mad Max!

It doesn’t help that I had a hacking cough. Hacking cough plus broken ribs = double ouch. It also doesn’t help that every time I say my ribs are broken, I crack up laughing.

If you’re sitting there reading this, procrastinating about going for a run or a walk or to the gym, then get up and do it now. After reading about Shauna and Sue and being injured myself, I reckon you have to stop taking your body for granted. Don’t think – I’ll exercise tomorrow – because you can’t count on your body being there for you tomorrow.

Be grateful that you have a body capable of being fit and active, regardless of size and shape. There are so many people out there (no just sooky me with my broken ribs but people with real disabilities and illness) that would be damn happy to be able to slog through a gruelling workout session.

I do think I need to discuss with my doctor WHY I keep falling over. I figure it could be either because I have zero balance or a problem with my shoes (the nikes have been cursed by sweatshop children, I bet). I mean, I used to fall over lots but that was because I was drunk. Now I’ve cut back on drinking and I still fall over. I swear to god, if I’d done this pissed, I’d have not injured myself half as bad. Maybe I’ll take a pitcher of Margarita on my next run.

Oops

I went for my run this arvo and fell over (again). Lots of scrapes and grazes but, worst of all, I’ve damaged my ribs. I felt fine to finish my run but when I got home and tried to bend over, ouch!

When I cough or laugh or breathe deeply it hurts. I figure it’s either a fractured rib, bruised ribs or a pulled muscle. I did ring Dr Mum – sure she doesn’t have a medical degree but there’s no hour long wait either – and she said if I’d broken my rib, I’d have never kept running. I’m not so sure about that, cos I’m hella tough – like when Mad Max had his leg broken, he kept going.

Tomorrow I’m going to the real doctor. I figure they can’t do much but leastways they can strap it much better than my bungled job.

The worst bit is I’m worried this will put me out of action, exercise-wise, for a while. I’ll talk this over with the doctor and hopefully running will still be okay. I can’t see any problem with spin classes but I’m thinking my weights sessions will be restricted to lower body. I can’t imagine attempting a one-arm row or crunches at the moment.

As for the bright side -strapping around the ribs really gives me a defined waist and perky boobs

A big mountain of sugar is too much for one man!

When you eat sugar, it gets lonely in your belly so it calls out to all it’s friends – ‘come join us, it’s a party in here.’ It does this by making you think you want more sugar and more and more until you become a big ball of sugariness. Even when you think you’ve had enough and you want to stop, it keeps calling to it’s kind. You have so much inside you, it’s gained control. It calls louder and louder. You are in it’s power.

The only way to stop it is cold turkey. Cut off the source. I’m going to try it for a few days and see how I go.

Balls

My cupcake obsession has been replaced. My new obsession is the chocobana balls at the local cafe. They are like rum balls but chocolate banana flavoured with a malteser in the middle. OMG they are good!

I used to write then take a hard copy down to the cafe to edit. Now I write just so I can go to the cafe and get chocobana balls! I can’t stop at one either. I’ve got a two ball a day habit. It’d be worse except I feel piggy enough asking for a second one from the staff, let alone a third.

Then yesterday, I had my first ball and when I ordered the second, they were out. Good thing too I reckon.

Today I didn’t go in, thinking they’d have not restocked yet but I’ve been on a sugar binge. I don’t think I’ve eaten that many calories but it’s all been on sweet stuff, not real food. What’s my problem?

Oh yeah, Turkish Delight icecreams – don’t buy them. They are evil. Evil, I tells ya. Evilly delicious.

Arrggh… just to get away from my food obsession for a moment, last night I visited Andrew. I took him to the shops and was about to drop him home when he let drop he’s changing uni courses. I started screaming at him, then got out of the car and followed him inside. He said he thought I was going home and I was like – how can I go home, I haven’t finished screaming at you. So I screamed at him for about an hour then felt better and left. It bugs me that he decided to change two years into his course. And bugged me more that he didn’t even discuss it with me. I’m only his mother. I only gave birth to him and raised. What do I know?

Then my sister started to say that I’d dropped out of my first uni course halfway so I had to beat her over the head with a blunt object until she shut up.

Sick

Tonight I went to spin class and about halfway through I realised the woman beside me had been constantly blowing her nose. Is there some polite way to ask someone if their disease is contagious?

Because I’m a quiet, polite person, I spent the next 20 minutes ignoring her and trying not to breathe in her direction but a very big part of me wanted to get up and change bikes, moving right away. And another part deep down inside wanted to jump up and yell at her to get her filthy infectous body away from mine.

I’ve spent months over winter wracked with colds and flus and finally I’ve had a run of NOT being sick, so this selfish, diseased woman has to sit herself beside me even though there were plenty of other bikes, even though she could have stayed at home — and now I’m sneezing and feeling a little feverish.

I hate these people. Fair enough, sometimes you have to leave the house with a cold or flu, but you never have to go to spin class. I bet she was all ‘look at me, I’m such a brave soldier, exercising when I’m sick.’ Arrgghh, I want to beat her around the head with housebricks.

She didn’t even spray her bike down with the disinfecting spray when she finished. She just wiped it down and left the germs for the next person.